Countdown to Death
by 88KeysOfSadism
Summary: He's not ready to go... This isn't fair... Sequel to Smoke, Sweat, and Waterfalls series (see inside)


**Finally finished this after forever. Sorry it took so long. It didn't flow very quickly...**

**This is the final installment (unless otherwise requested) in the installments of Smoke, Sweat, and Waterfalls. If you want to read them in order, they are:**

**Smoke, Sweat, and Waterfalls**

**Please Forgive Me**

**Sixty Seconds Too Late**

**And this one, Countdown to Death**

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

**Warning: Feeeeeeeels**

* * *

The crowbar stops hurting after about the fourteenth hit. Or at least that's when he stops counting. Or maybe when he stops caring. He's not really sure.

It doesn't matter at this point. It's not like he really needs to keep track.

The hits are just a fluctuating pounding, the laughter ringing through the warehouse simply dull, white noise like the incessant buzzing of a fly that simply can't be hit.

_Isn't this how Todd died?_ he wonders suddenly.

Not that it matters either, but he's still curious.

Did the former Robin blank out too? Just take the hits without complaint or rebellion? Somehow, he doubts it. Jason Todd has always been a stubborn man.

Besides, he'd had something to hold onto:

Hope.

Hope is useless, Damian decides finally. It's not like he's got any right now.

Todd would never come. Whether to avoid the memories- Damian can't blame him, since he's pretty sure he's never going to forget the feeling of his ribs being snapped by the metal-wielding madman- or simply because he doesn't care, Todd would never come. Or maybe... Maybe he blames the ex-assassin for...

_Not now..._

Drake won't come either. He doesn't even like the captured boy, so it is overly optimistic to expect Drake to go after the "Demon Spawn" he so despises. Besides, he's probably busy.

Pennyworth is too old for these things, which left...

Nobody.

Nobody else knows he's missing. Except...

Except Grayson.

Damian has to bite back tears at the thought, though he thinks he can hear the madman giggling about "that one had to hurt a lot more, if I'm getting tears."

These tears aren't for you, he wants to hiss, but he can't seem to bring himself to do it. The clown isn't worth his time. And it would make him look weak.

Waynes are not weak. He would not disgrace the name.

Even in death.

He loses track of time, his mind going blank. Every now and then, a thought forces its way into his mind. Most get shoved out of sight, but one stays resolutely in place, playing across his eyelids.

_"C'mon, Dami. It'll be fun!"_

_He scowls. "Grayson, I'm not watching that movie. It's foolish and childish."_

_A mock gasp of horror is his first reply, then, "But it's a classic, Dami!"_

_"-tt- How can a movie about speaking toys be a classic?"_

_"Because it's Toy Story, Dami! Everybody's seen it!"_

_"Well I haven't, and I won't. If you require me for something of actual importance, Grayson, I shall be in my bedroom. Good night."_

Now, as the crowbar bites into his side again, Damian seriously regrets turning down his eldest brother's offer. And, though he'd never admit it, he had watched the majority of the movie from the top of the stairs. And he'd enjoyed it, but he'd never tell Grayson that.

Heck, Grayson probably already knows.

Knew.

Damian gets so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn't even notice the lack of abuse on his body. Slowly, maybe even hesitantly, he cracks his eyes open, searching through the dark, dank warehouse.

There's the clown. The other side of the room, back facing a partially open door. His vision is too blurred to see what lies outside, his head pounding too hard to hear what the Joker's parting words are.

All that registers is the creaking of the door, and the resounding, ominous thud of the door slamming shut.

It's quiet now. Or mostly quiet. The wind is howling outside, like some poor wounded animal. The death wail of a creature that could never be saved.

Like him.

But now that his mind is on death, it wanders to an even worse thought:

Grayson.

How had he died? Damian wonders. He hopes it was something quick and relatively painless. Unnatural death most likely never came without pain. Not that he would know.

Do Todd and Drake know yet? He has to assume so. Grayson always comes- came- home, unless something bad happened and he required assistance.

Have they found his body?

Damian shivers involuntarily, closing his eyes. Part of him is glad that he's going to die here, alone in a freezing warehouse. He never wants to face his other "brothers," to feel the guilt of the older man's death, to see his still and pale body...

And then a terrible image sprouts into his mind.

The pale body of Richard Grayson, dressed in a gray body suit with the emblem of a black bat sewn onto his chest. No cowl; that's still in the last warehouse. His face would be gray and ashen, probably bloody. He'd never have gone out without a fight. The suit would have to be torn, deep crimson dried onto the gashes. Alone on the roof of a building, cerulean eyes dead and unseeing, staring up at the sky with a deadened sorrow because he was abandoned-

_No._

He can't let that happen. Damian owes his mentor at least that much. He has to find his body. /Has/ to.

With a renewed stubbornness, he drags himself to his feet. His body surges in pain, a protest against the movement. But he ignores it, stumbling to the door. He's got to find Grayson, recover his body, snow and distance be damned. Nothing's going to get in his way, not even-

Locked.

It's locked.

The door is locked. He has no weapons, nothing to help him break out.

Almost instantly, all thoughts of going back to Gotham vanish. Damian turns his back to the freezing metal and slowly slides down to a sitting position, overcome by shock. He's going to die here. Alone and bleeding out, suffering in agony up until he just can't pull in another breath.

Like Grayson.

Damian slowly curls in on himself, resting his head against the door. It's just him now, and he's going to die like that. Just himself, his thoughts, the screaming of the wind, and...

Beeping.

His eyes snap towards the sound. It's coming from the corner, a mass of snared wires and tubes, and angry red numbers.

_**0:43**_

**_0:42_**

A bomb.

A countdown to death.

_This is how Todd died..._

All his pains and aches come rushing back to him, in that instant, and tears start to snake down his face.

It's not fair! He... He doesn't want to die! He wants to go home, he wants to apologize for his harsh words to Drake, and... and...

And he just wants Grayson back. He just wants Grayson to hug him, and assure him that everything is going to be okay.

But that's never going to happen.

It never can happen.

Not anymore.

_**0:28**_

**_0:27_**

Has that much time really passed?

Surprisingly, he's finding that it doesn't bother him so much that he's about to get blown up. Nothing really matters anymore. Even if he did get found, what was left for him? He'd be all alone again. No, it's better like this...

Isn't it?

**_0:15_**

**_0:14_**

His tears run faster, despite his best efforts to stop them. He's not even sure why he's crying now, he just... is.

The door behind his back starts to rattle, and he tunes it out. Stupid wind. It rattles the door handle, creating the sound of someone trying to break the lock.

Wait...

**_0:10_**

**_0:09_**

The door falls away behind him, and Damian tumbles back into strong arms before being whisked away. He almost blankly sees the door of the dark warehouse, propped open in the snow as he continues to move back, whoever's holding him sprinting across the whiteness.

He counts down in his head.

_0:06_

_0:05_

_0:04_

He's shaken from his thoughts as he's forced in front of whoever is carrying him, and then tackled onto the snow. Damian groans with the added weight, almost unaware of the freezing snow seeping through the back of his torn uniform.

The building explodes, and Damian sucks in a breath of shock. He can hear and feel chunks of the warehouse crashing into the snow, heat swarming around him even though he's being smothered.

He struggles to breathe under the slightly crushing weight, inadvertently breathing in the scent of the man covering him.

There's sweat, and the smell of fear. It's the weirdest thing, to be able to identify that. But there's another smell...

As the other man sits up, pulling Damian with him, and in that moment, he recognizes the mysterious scent.

Waterfalls.

Before he can yell at Todd for wearing Grayson's suit, the man before him pulls back the pointed cowl. "Dami, are you okay?"

Those worried blue eyes could never, ever belong to Todd, and Damian swallows hard before speaking. "... G-Grayson?"

The acrobat nods, his face illuminated by the flaming debris. "Yeah, it's me." He smiles weakly. "I'm so sorry. I should've found you sooner, a-and I shouldn't have let him take you in the first place, and-"

Damian flings his arms around his brother, tears pouring off his cheeks.

_He's alive._

With only the briefest moment of hesitation, probably from shock, the hug is returned, though looser. It still stings slightly, but it's warm and comforting, and Grayson is _alive_.

The elder man combs his fingers through the younger's hair, trying to soothe him, while Damian latches on for dear life, sobbing.

"It's okay. I'm alright, Dami." He doesn't bother to shush his little brother, for which Damian is grateful. He grips the cape as tightly as he can, just reassuring himself that his brother is alive. There are no words for the relief he feels just knowing that he's not alone.

"You're shivering," Grayson says quietly. Only then does the coldness hit Damian, and he becomes aware of snowflakes stinging his back, like little razor blades.

And then Grayson's hands move away. Damian whimpers and presses himself closer to the warm chest. Later, he would insist it was for heat, and not to reassure himself that his brother wasn't going anywhere.

Seconds later, something wraps around him, shielding him from the cold. It takes him a while to realize what it is.

Grayson's cape.

Strong arms wrap around him again, and he suddenly finds himself moving, being lifted up in the air. Damian nuzzles into Grayson's neck, still trembling. He breathes in deeply.

Smoke from the flaming building. Sweat from Grayson's fear.

Waterfalls.

Damian relaxes slightly, fingers wound into the dark cape. Grayson starts walking, quietly murmuring foolish little sayings.

"It's going to be okay."

"I'm fine."

"Nobody's going to hurt you."

Though he knows, deep inside, that his brother can't keep the promises he's making, Damian ignores that.

"Everything's going to be fine."

Damian's asleep before they even get back to the bike.


End file.
